


Quill You Take Care of Me

by Michelle_A_Emerlind



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Rickyl Writers' Group Bingo 2016, Semi-Crack, prison fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6144394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl misinterprets the marks he sees on Rick (and then Rick gets a BJ!).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quill You Take Care of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skarlatha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha/gifts).



> For my bingo card, which had "suspected needle marks" on it. Idk. This is what you guys get. Also, unbetaed since my poor skarlatha is feeling bad tonight. So I am WILD AND FREE!!!!
> 
> For you, dear, as you are always the light in my life.

The first reaction that Daryl has upon seeing Rick melt from the woods is a widespread panic that settles in his heart like a thumping bass. Rick’s head is down and he’s shuffling and it takes Daryl a second to tame down the ever present fear in his mind _is that a walker shuffle?_ But it isn’t, it’s more even than that, and when Rick finally does look up, his eyes are still bright, sky blue and ticking at the world, taking it in careful measurements, as it should.

But still, the bastard is walking funny. And Daryl frowns as he moves to the gate and outside of the prison walls, some kind of alarm bell ringing off in the back of his head. He’s seen this before. Where has he seen this before? This particular walk, tight and angled and shuffling with loose arms and a ducking head and shit... _shit_. Daryl remembers where he’s seen this, on friends and acquaintances, and mostly Merle.

So when Daryl gets up to Rick at the edge of the woods, he’s as pissed as a cat in a water barrel. “Fuck,” Daryl says and grabs Rick’s hands automatically and turns them, finds--yes--little pin pricks all over his skin just screaming _needle_. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go get the traps alone. Rick, the fuck is this?”

And Rick looks at him with those eyes as wide and long as the southern sky and swallows hard with a crinkle of pain. “Daryl...I didn’t want you to find out.”

“The hell I bet you _didn’t_ ,” Daryl growls and drops his hands immediately, has half a mind to slap Rick’s ass all the way to the coast and then some. “What the shit are you thinking, Rick? Shooting up?”

Rick opens his mouth to respond with wide eyes and then shuts it, frowns, and twists his waist around as if he’s either in a lot of pain or finding a very unforgiving itch. “Shoot up?”

“That’s what these are, right?” Daryl growls, grabbing his wrist and showing Rick the marks, nearly smacking Rick in the face with his own hand. “Drugs?”

“No!” Rick says in surprise and then squeaks out with a creeping blush to his cheeks. “...porcupine got me.”

Daryl blinks and then blinks again and when that doesn’t help him process the information, he just grunts out, “ _What_?”

“Found a…” Rick swallows and looks away, carefully pulling his hand up to his neck and rubbing at the back of it, looking studiously away from Daryl, “...pair of mating porcupines.”

Daryl lets out a huff of breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “ _That_ all? Jesus F-ing Christ, man. Here I was thinking you were a walker or strung out on shit. Give me a heartattack, why don’t you. Why you walking all funny, huh? Shuffling and crap.”

Rick frowns and then opens his mouth, winces and closes it again and then looks at Daryl with the widest, begging-est eyes Daryl has ever seen. “...got ‘em on my ass.”

“...what?”

“Quills. Got quills on my ass.”

“ _What_?”

“...sat on one of ‘em.”

Daryl snorts and then when he sees that Rick is being dead serious, can’t help but bust out a string of laughter. “You sat on _mating porcupines_.”

Rick blushes scarlet and then grunts, trying to turn and walk away, but only succeeding in awkwardly dancing in place. “ _Shut the fuck up, Daryl_. I’ve been limping for half a mile cause I got a quill in my crack and I don’t need you to--”

But Daryl doesn’t hear anything else over the loud, obnoxious sound of his own laughter.

“Shut the hell _up_ , _Dixon!_ ” Rick growls and finally manages to turn around and start shuffling away. Daryl gasps out a snorting breath in between all his laughter when he sees Rick’s poor, pathetic ass looking like one of them balls that old ladies stick their pins into.

“Rick!” Daryl calls through a wheeze of laughter. “Hey, man, wait up. Let me help you.”

“Fuck you!” Rick calls back at him, pretty little ass globes clenched as he waddles into the forest.

Daryl can’t help his chuckles and his giggles about all of it, but he follows Rick nonetheless until they’re in a protected shade of trees. “Didn’t you try to pull ‘em out?” Daryl asks, but Rick just crosses his arms and refuses to turn around to face him.

“Tired, but they’re lodged in there and I didn’t have the angle to get at it right. Stop laughing! I can still hear you laughing.”

Daryl snorts to a stop and shakes his head, walking over and smacking Rick on his non-quill covered hip. “I got you, man. Just hold still and try not to act like a baby about it.”

Rick sighs heavily, but nods and then looks up at the top of the trees, flaring his nostrils as he braces himself. Daryl stares down at Rick’s backside and picks one fairly high up that looks reasonably shallow. He pinches the thing between his fingers and pulls, earning a grunt for Rick, but it slides out decently well. Daryl tosses it aside and moves on to the others.

He really does try hard not to stare at Rick’s ass while he works, but that’s a feat that Daryl’s never really been good at. And Rick’s ass all clenched like this, even with the quills, is sending all kind of messages straight to Daryl’s boiling blood. Add that to the fact that Daryl’s hand where it’s gripping Rick to hold him still is burning with body heat and intimacy and fuck, Daryl shouldn’t at all be getting turned on by this, but he’s so _close_ to Rick, how can he help it?

Rick grunts as Daryl frees him of another quill and keeps moving downwards, fingers skipping over his ass through his jeans and trying not to linger. And is that Daryl’s imagination or is Rick’s breath getting heavier? He tries to pass it off as just the quills--damn things must hurt getting pulled--but he can’t quite convince himself that that’s all it is. Because Daryl knows Rick way too well. And he knows that sometimes when they stare at each other over a fire, when their hands brush on the stairs, when Daryl says goodnight and _almost_ stays in Rick’s cell--well, Rick’s breath gets heavier then, too. And the pupils of his eyes dilate. And sometimes, when Daryl makes excuses to touch him--just a friend touch, yes, just a friend--Rick will get goosebumps over his skin, little patterns breaking out that just beakon for Daryl and...these thoughts are not helping their current situation.

Daryl looks down and sees two quills left. He also sees a stripe of Rick’s skin exposed, just a few inches up from where Daryl’s hand is resting on his hip. So Daryl slides his fingers that way, pretends this is just to hold him still as he grabs the next-to-last quill and pulls. Rick gasps and his skin, hot with them together, shives in the air under Daryl’s fingertips and Daryl watches over Rick’s shoulder, from the corner of his eye, as Rick swallows and stares at the trees harder, glares at them as if he can put all his energy there. And Daryl sees, too, while he’s looking at Rick’s front, that despite the quills and all the pulling, Rick’s jeans look just a bit tighter. So Daryl smiles, dips to his knees in front of Rick’s ass on the pretense of getting a better look at the last quill. His hand slides from Rick’s hip to the top of his ass and Daryl puts his second one on the other side, holds Rick there and stares at the last tiny quill--not deep, but sure inconveniently poking right into the center of Rick’s jeans.

“Ready?” Daryl asks and Rick just grunts in response. So Daryl wraps his fingers around it, braces and pulls, listens to the little yelp Rick makes at the last one. And then, while Rick’s distracted, Daryl gathers all of his courage into himself and pushes at Rick’s body, swings Rick around until Rick stumbles with his front to him now and with a grin like a cheshire cat, Daryl leans forward and puts himself right up on Rick, mouthing him through his jeans.

“ _Oh_ ,” Rick squeaks out, his hand going automatically to Daryl’s head, “ _t-that’s not a quill._ ”

Daryl chuckles. “Nah, man,” he says with a wink, “think it’s a little bigger than that.” And then he really goes for it, pressing his mouth against the hardness of Rick’s length and bringing up his hand to cup him through his jeans.

Rick let’s out a broken gasp that sounds suspiciously like Daryl’s name and presses himself forward. “We shouldn’t. I---”

“Don’t care about should,” Daryl says in a husky whisper, his fingers fast on Rick’s zipper. “Trees’ll hide us. Want to suck you.” He groans at his own words. “Wanna turn that bad day upside down.”

Rick opens his mouth to respond, but by then, the button’s already undone and the zipper’s already down and Daryl has pulled him out and let his lips find their way home, right to the head. With a sinful, swirling lick, he attaches his mouth and listens in desperate glee as Rick moans loudly into the forest and just stops himself from bucking upwards.

But Daryl, with a pull on his hips and a guttural groan low in his throat, encourages Rick just as he starts bobbing his head and it doesn’t take long for his fearless, proud leader to get with the program and start fucking his mouth open, slow, but deep--with power. Daryl grunts as he does, enjoying the feel of Rick sliding on his tongue, down to the back of his throat, up the underside to the head. He pushes at Rick, knee-walking him back until Rick’s back hits a tree trunk and he hisses in pain for a second at the contact with the fresh quill wounds.

But he forgets about that soon enough, just as soon as Daryl’s hand slips inside his pants to cup his balls and he sucks hard and with _almost_ too much pressure. Rick starts to whine, his hips ticking up again into Daryl’s mouth, back and forth, a delicious rhythm until it gets choppy, stilted, _close_.

Daryl looks up at Rick through his eyelashes and grunts out an affirmative, taking Rick as far in as he can and _encouraging_ him to finish. And Rick, with wide, pupil-blown eyes and deep, gasping breaths, does--digging his nails into Daryl’s hair and crying out as he starts. Daryl feels the hot, thickness of it and moans low in his throat, drags his mouth down so that it can splash upon his tongue and so he can really fucking _taste_ Rick.

He holds him in until he’s completely finished and, when he’s done, Daryl pulls off slowly and with a little pop. He laughs up at Rick and licks the corner of his mouth, delighted when Rick’s eyes go wild. “Think them fuckin’ porcupines are the best thing that ever happen to you,” Daryl says and he rises from the dirt floor, wincing at how hard he feels lodged in his own pants.

Rick grabs his hip and pulls him close, whispers from deep in his chest with a cagey rattle, “Give me a sec and I’ll finish you.”

“Nah,” Daryl says with an evil glint to his eye as he slips an arm around Rick’s back and pulls him from the tree, slaps his other palm down on an ass cheek just to hear Rick howl. “Think I’ll let your ass heal up and then you and I can have us a real good time.”

With that, he winks at Rick and leans forward to only briefly peck his lips in a kiss. “Quill see each other later,” Daryl says with a damned malicious little snicker and turns his ass around, waddling away in a very similar pattern to what Rick did early.

 

 

 


End file.
